Forbidden Heat Ch. 01

A request featuring Sylvanas Windrunner, Sally Whitemane, and a worgen OC.

Tirisfal was a cold shell of a land gripped by dense fog and dotted with gnarled trees that stuck out like old, yellowed bones. Gray grass crept across rolling hills and desiccated plains, and the sky, as dark and gloomy as what lay beneath, hung overhead. Silence reigned, but was challenged by a harsh scream followed by the fretful squawking of a raven launching itself out of a tree and taking flight. It passed over a single, solitary carriage, halted in the middle of a run-down road that was half dirt, half cobblestone. Excluding the driver, there were two people outside it.

"You still won't tell me where we're going?" Nick asked.

"Ungh... Fuck!" Sylvanas flipped her blonde hair over a shoulder and dug her nails into the wood of the carriage door. She ignored the question, or perhaps didn't hear it over the sound of the worgen's hips drumming a steady beat against her jiggling ass. She was bent over at a near ninety degree angle, her shapely legs spread wide, her pussy drooling as her monstrous lover pummeled it from behind.

"I don't see what the big deal is," he continued rather absentmindedly, watching as the Banshee Queen's pussy desperately clung to his member with each thrust. A handful of strokes more and the muscles in Sylvanas' back tensed and her cunt constricted around his tool in a spasm that had her shamelessly milking his cock. Her orgasm was accompanied by a shriek louder than the last, splitting the silence of the forest like a death knell. Nick squeezed the supple cheeks of her ass, kneading it between his fingers, and kept on pumping.

"Stop asking. You'll find out when we get there," Sylvanas finally said after calming down, her words a little unsteady as she was rocked forward with each thrust.

Nick sighed but didn't press any further. He fucked another orgasm out of her and then followed suit with one of his own. Not wanting to ride with a cunt full of cum, Sylvanas dropped to her knees before he exploded, devouring every drop of cream from his balls then taking a minute to suck him clean. Once finished, his crimson-hued girth popped free from her lips, good as new, and when he slapped it a couple times against her chin she stood up and got dressed.

When they were back inside the plush confines of the deceptively large carriage, Sylvanas signaled to the driver and then leaned back with her arms folded and one leg crossed over a knee. He sat down next to her, slouching in his seat slightly so that his head didn't brush the roof.

"Can you at least tell me how long it'll take to get there?"

"Hmm..." There was a mirror in her hand. She used it to quickly touch up her hair and purple-black lipstick. "Around a day, I suppose."

"You suppose?" he asked, a little too sharply.

"Watch your tone," she said, but there was no bite to her voice, only vague disinterest. Her attention was focused on the dreary Tirisfal scenery outside her window.

"I should have brought a book." He glanced about the carriage and found nothing. "I don't suppose you have one?" She shook her head, clearly not desiring to engage in conversation. "Well fine, if you don't want to talk I will."

"I'd rather you didn't," she said, not bothering to look at him.

"I will. Maybe I'll even sing."

"I'll kick you out of this carriage," she threatened, but it was a hollow gesture. Whatever reason there was for this trip, he was part of it.

"Sit on my lap and I'll be quiet."

"No."

They argued back and forth for a hot minute before he began to sing. She was on his lap before he could finish the first line of the first verse.

Her shoulder pads were a bit of a bother, but it was worth it just to feel her ass in his lap, bouncing with every bump in the road. He was hard soon enough, and he grinded up into her, his hands on her thighs and his breath on her neck. For a while she ignored him, but at some point she began to get into it. She was not as overtly crude as he, but she took to rubbing against his groin, fitting his erect cock between the curves of her ass cheeks, rocking and bouncing in an exaggerated fashion with every bump of the carriage. It wasn't long before he couldn't take it anymore.

He moved to get up but Sylvanas stopped him.

"Wait," she said, turning and slinking onto the floor between his legs. She peeled back her hood, freeing her gilded hair and long elven ears. She settled herself on her knees, getting comfortable, then reached out to grip him by the base with one hand, stroking up, then down. His cock was already lubed with pre-cum, a striking red pillar of worgen meat that she eyed with great hunger, and soon the wet sound of her hand massaging his tool filled the luxurious carriage. She fucked her hand upon his shaft with quick strokes, ensuring that he was utterly and completely hard before she eagerly took him into her mouth.

Her lips were soft and full, painted a purple so dark they were nearly black, and as they wrapped around his tip he let loose a deep and satisfied groan. For a brief moment her tongue snaked about him, seeking his slit, teasing at it, then her head lowered, sinking down, further and further. Sylvanas throated him inch by inch, slowly but easily, until the entirety of his canine appendage had disappeared down her throat, devoured in whole by the gratifying expertise of the Dark Lady.

There was a wiggling of her tongue, and then she lowered herself further towards the floor, inclining her head so that she was looking up at him with those bright red eyes that were so accustomed to striking fear into her enemies. His cock angled down into her gullet, and he almost blew his load from this sight alone; but he kept his balls in check and signaled for her to continue with a light hand atop her head. She did so, retracting his length from her mouth with clinging lips before slurping him down again, purposefully noisy and going as fast as she could in the position she was in. The carriage was still moving at full speed, but Sylvanas throated him like she was born to do so, gradually sating her hunger for worgen dick with every thrust of her head and lick of her tongue, sucking his cock with gratuitous fervor and a trickling stream of spit.

It was amazing to him how a woman of her pedigree and deadly reputation could be found in such a mundanely feminine position upon her knees. He'd seen her bark orders to subordinates and play politics with other races, slay foes with hatred in her eyes and a smile on her lips, but the contrast between such cold intelligence, such lethal animosity, and the way she now so greedily sucked upon his cock was too much to bear. Sylvanas was a cock-crazed, cum-addicted slut, and he gave her what she wanted with a yell that shook the trees.

His thighs enclosed around her head as he shouted his release, and the hand atop her head tightened, grabbing at her hair, her skull, as he came with a great torrent of sticky batter. Sylvanas took it all as casually as one might breathe or sip water from a glass, the muscles in her throat working to swallow every drop of cum dredged up from the worgen's mighty balls.

He held her there between his legs for some time, spurting great heaping loads of sperm directly into her stomach, so much so that even he was surprised, especially considering the fact that he had only an hour or so prior relieved himself. Eventually however, his balls ceased production. One last shot of cum into the Dark Lady's cream-filled stomach and he sighed, head dropping contentedly back against the seat. Sylvanas had sucked every last drop out of him, at least for the time being.

Withdrawing his wet and sticky cock from her mouth, he rested it upon her face, her long ears framing it like wings. Normally she would not tolerate such disrespect, but at times like these, when her pussy was dripping wet and he could smell her arousal as easily as the coastal air, she afforded him the pleasurable luxury of using her as he saw fit.

So she remained where she was upon the floor, content for the time being to allow his heavy girth to rest atop her face. It was hot, heavy, and sticky, an angry red pillar against her cool blue skin. It ruffled her eyebrows and smeared her features with their combined juices, rolling down the sides of her nose like rain. Meanwhile, the carriage continued on, its driver wholeheartedly unconcerned and uncaring as to what was occurring inside. When Nick recovered, and it didn't take very long, he stood up, his cock sliding off her and leaving a wet trail.

He needed to fuck her, to be balls-deep in that tight elven cunt, or banshee cunt, or whatever it was. Their eyes met, and one look was all it took for her to understand. She ordered the carriage to draw rein, and when they stepped outside, into the same chilled gloom and thick fog as before, they stripped.

She blended into the fog, with her clear blue skin that bordered on pale silver, but her eyes stood out as fiery red beacons in the haze of gray that smothered Tirisfal Glades. He became aware of the fact that they'd made decent progress since their last stop. The forest was denser now, the air more suffocating, as if it carried upon it a sickness that infected the earth itself. A gust of wind soughed through the brittle trees, and he could almost make out what sounded like hurried footsteps, running now, in the far off distance. The great skeletal horses leading the carriage ignored it, and so did he.

He hefted Sylvanas and took her with her back against the carriage, her breasts jiggling frantically and her legs wrapped securely around his waist. He speared into her, hips pumping, his hand around her throat and her arms thrown around his neck. Her pussy fit him like a glove, stretched wide and gushing around his member. The wooden carriage rattled, the horses snorted irritably, his balls slapped up against her ass, and the wet sound of their joining echoed into the evening until it was eclipsed by a satisfied shriek.

The sound of Sylvanas cumming on his cock traveled far, and though her pussy clamped and rippled around him, his orgasm did not yet come. No less fast or hard than before, he continued to pump her at a steady pace, his eyes locked on hers.

She carried within her fearsome eyes a look of proud defiance despite the compromising position she was in. Her lip was curled in a snarl, her teeth bared and displaying her sharp elven canines. The Dark Lady was a woman of cool control and mature elegance, but in bed or in combat she was an animal. She took dick with a fierce, almost masochistic desire to have her body ruined and her mind emptied of anything but pleasure.

Nick would give her that, because if there was anything Sylvanas was weak to it was cock, specifically his. That was why she liked him. That was why she kept him.

He tightened his grip around her throat and thrust again.

"What is that insufferable noise?"

High Inquisitor Sally Whitemane tapped her staff against the floor in a fit of anger and stood up. The chair she was seated upon clattered backwards with the unappealing sound of wood on wood. She strode across the study, threw open the door and repeated herself, yelling this time: "What is that insufferable noise?!"

There was a hurried shuffling down the graystone hallway, and a bearded sergeant soon emerged from a nearby room. He jogged to her, his chainmail clinking and his white-and-red Scarlet Crusade tabard flapping. "We're not sure yet, Your Radiance. It sounds like a banshee, but like I said, we aren't sure."

"What do you know?" she snapped.

"It's gotten closer in the past hour, and there's a carriage outside near the Monastery. A rather large one, at that."

"Are you waiting for an invitation, then? Why don't you go out there and find out who or what it is?"

"The men--" He hesitated, his body language becoming nervous. "--they're scared. They can't get close without turning tail and running. Jordan says there's some kind of aura emanating from the driver."

"Jordan is the dumbest son of a bitch in this Monastery," she huffed, already stomping off to her upstairs quarters.

"Ma'am?" he called after her, his eyes focused upon the partially concealed, almost bare cheeks of her ass undulating with every step she took.

"I'll take care of it myself."

Whitemane moved upstairs and into her room, leaving her door open as she rummaged through her things. Given the territory, and the otherworldly aspect of the shrieks, it would be unwise not to utilize an undead resistance scroll. She unrolled one, muttered the words necessary, and gasped as the effect washed over her. If she ended up needing to battle, it would compliment her own Light abilities.

Tossing the used scroll upon her desk, she was about to reach for a clarity potion when another scream traveled up the Monastery walls and rattled her ears. Her bedroom was higher up than her study was, but it had a window that allowed the sound to come right through. She moved towards the opening and peeked outside.

The day was melting into the evening now, but despite this and the blanket of fog, she easily spotted the carriage. It was less than a furlong away, right outside her window. She could see four horses of an inky black color and sturdy build at the forefront. Their bones showed through various gaps in their partially decayed flesh, but the four-legged abominations seemed to suffer not from it.

The driver she could not ascertain the whereabouts of, as a thick, choking cloud that looked like the nearby fog obfuscated the driver's box. How the driver could see she did not know, but the question was quickly discarded as her eyes drifted only a short distance a ways from the carriage. There was a duo there within the fog, a horrible monster of a man with black fur and yellow eyes, as well as a blue-skinned woman with blonde hair and eyes like hot fire. She could see them clearly, and as she noticed them, she came to realize that the other woman had already noticed her. A smile lit the woman's face, tiny in the distance, but Whitemane couldn't help but shiver.

They'd dealt with apparitions and the undead before, but never quite like this. The distant yet too close woman was bent over a gravestone, her obviously lush body rocking as the monster behind her--a worgen by the looks of it--humped into her, battering her body and shoving her forward with each stroke. It was obscene, but the bliss upon the woman's face was obvious, and as Whitemane watched, a clarity of recognition passed over her. She was an elf, with blue skin and red eyes, her face wickedly beautiful. Who else could it be but Sylvanas Windrunner?

But no. Here? Getting pounded from behind by a worgen of all things? The ghosts of the land must be playing tricks on her, that was all. A play of sorts, for her viewing pleasure alone. The concern etched onto Whitemane's face dissolved, replaced by an enticed smirk. She pulled up a chair and sat down, opening the window and giving the ghosts a friendly wave. The worgen didn't seem to notice, or care, but not-Sylvanas smiled back. With the window open Whitemane could hear them now, the beast's grunts, the woman's spectral moans, the steady clapping of her ass, and the wet squelching of his balls against her pussy disturbing the uneasy silence of the forest.

"This is quite the show," she murmured, slipping a hand between her now spread legs and pushing aside her underwear. "It's not everyday you get to see the Dark Lady rutted by a worgen."

Whitemane's lips parted with a moan as she began to touch herself, rubbing along her slit then cupping her mound and dipping two fingers inside of her pussy. The snow white hair of her landing strip brushed against her palm, and when she traced her clit she gasped, growing more frantic with her fingering. In the distance, phantom Sylvanas and her hairy partner changed positions. The elf was being held up now with her back against the worgen's chest, bent in half with her feet above her head and the beast's hands gripping at her skull; but her eyes were still on Whitemane's. The man bounced her atop his cock, a large red obelisk Whitemane couldn't help but admire. She could see it pistoning in and out, stretching Sylvanas' pussy to a degree that made her envious.

"Lucky bitch," she whined, biting into her lower lip and digging her fingers into her soaking cunt. She was close, and so was the Dark Lady.

A scream like she'd earlier heard rippled forth, and as Sylvanas came, so did she, her breaths quick and ragged, her fingers rubbing her clit in a frenzy. Her vision blanked for half a second, and when her climax floated by her fingers were dripping, her mouth panting.

"I needed that," she said with a contented sigh. Her attention turned back to the two ghosts by the carriage. They were standing now, conversing with each other and stealing glances up towards her window. She closed it. "Thanks for the show, but I've duties to attend to now."

Standing up and smoothing her clothes, she moved the chair back to where it belonged, fiddled with some things on her desk, and moved to exit the room. The letters in her study wouldn't write themselves.

There was a click from behind her, followed by the foreboding sound of window frames creaking open. She stopped in her tracks, the tiny hairs on the back of her neck standing at attention as a cool draft rustled its way through the room.

"Hello," a voice seductive as silk called.

Whitemane spun on her crimson heels, eyes wide and a curse on her breath.

Sylvanas stood there in her room by the window, tall, imposing, hair understandably disheveled from the dicking the worgen had given her. Naked. She stepped forward.

"Sally, is it?" She spoke with a husky, spectral tone that was otherworldly. There was a blackish mist like smoke about her, but it faded into the solidity of her figure.

"You... You're a ghost," she said, tightening her grip on her staff and taking a step backwards toward the door.

Sylvanas' head cocked ever so slightly, her lips twisting into a smirk that revealed one of her fangs. "Banshee." She gestured nonchalantly with her hand. "Queen of them, in fact."

Whitemane felt a bead of cold sweat run down the side of her face. The real Sylvanas was here--and had been out there, getting fucked by a worgen while she watched and masturbated to it. Her cheeks reddened.

"I'm leaving." Flustered, she moved to turn around, but hadn't the time to do more than lift a foot before the door closed behind her, a purplish tendril of smoke dissipating in the air near her. She swallowed and lifted her eyes to Sylvanas'. "What do you want?"

"The question is: What do you want?"

"I don't understand."

"We both know what you were doing up here while I was down there," Sylvanas said with a smile. "You were touching yourself while I was getting fucked. Deep and hard, by a cock that's better than anything you've ever had."

Whitemane was frightened, but more than that, she was embarrassed. "I thought..."

"You thought his cock looked delicious," Sylvanas cut in. "Would you like to try him out?"

Was she actually suggesting...?

"What do you mean?"

The Dark Lady rolled her eyes. "Would you like him to fuck you until you need that staff to walk?"

Whitemane could feel a longing pulse between her legs. She tried to ignore it.

"I'm not some harlot! I just..."

A rocky scuttling came from outside the window. She glanced at it from over Sylvanas' shoulder and gasped as the head and furry black torso of a wolf appeared within its frame. Not a wolf, but rather the worgen, had climbed up while they were talking. He let himself in and stood beside Sylvanas. She didn't even glance at him.

He was huge, with a dark coat of fur and keen yellow eyes that trailed up and down her body unabashedly, inspecting her like a fine meal. Muscles rolled beneath the sheen of his fur, and between his legs hung the object that she had admired from afar, now so near and notably masculine. She wouldn't think of the word "scarlet" quite the same ever again.